


Blue

by The_Original_Gamer



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Original_Gamer/pseuds/The_Original_Gamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mels…what's your favourite colour?" Matt and Mello are having a fairly normal day, until our favorite gamer goes and decides to ask one of those random questions of his. Unfortunately for Mello, it's far more thought-provoking than planned. Wammy's era fluff. Foul language, but that's about all to turn noses over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue

"Mels…what's your favourite colour?"

We were, as usual, holed up in our room, books, as usual, sprawled all over the bed, intent, as usual, on the studying and after class work we were supposed to be doing. The skinny-assed (but undeniably cute…and don't bother saying shit about that 'cos even grumpy as fuck ROGER thinks he's cute) redhead was leaning into my side comfortably, knees drawn to his chest, fitting into the spot just right. Like pieces of a puzzle. My free arm went over his shoulder, for lack of a better place to put it, hand resting on one of his knees. The other hand was fast at work filling the lined paper before me to the brim with every ounce of _brilliance_ I could muster to put into the essay that wasn't due for another three days.

Chances were Near would have it done early too, and I was not about to let him beat me in any way shape or form.

The question though, caught me off guard, and had one train of thought screeching to a halt and starting up again in a whole other direction. There was only the briefest of pauses given so I could give him a look, one that he'd learn to take as the 'you're a dumbass' sort of look. His face was hidden though, turned away, and all I caught was his brilliant red hair falling over a bit more to aid him in hiding his eyes away from the world.

Turning back to my paper, I made a slight scoffing noise to make sure he knew I'd heard the question. Course, unless I answered…he wasn't about to leave me alone, and I so wasn't going to deal with that pout of his. That would make my mind melt and I could not have that right now. Hell no.

"Red." I finally grunted in answer, maybe a minute after he'd asked the initial question. Not because I had to stop in think on it, in fact, I didn't think on it a bit. The word just sort of fell out before I could even command my mind consciously to answer.

Matt did that to me sometimes. Made me talk without thought.

This time was a bit weird though, because as far as I was concerned my favourite colour was most certainly not red. Red made me think of those blushes that were near constantly painted over Matt's cheekbones, whether because of something I said or did, or because it was just his damned adorable nature to blush at any form of admiration or kindness or embarrassment sent his way. It made me think of how his lower lip was often swollen and red from biting so hard, from that nervous awkwardness he got sometimes, or from concentration, or just plain zoning out as he often did. Most importantly it made me think of the vibrant mess of red hair of his that never seemed to want to be tamed. Of the silken texture to it, that would have anyone wanting to run their hands through it again, and again, and again, and the scent that clung to it that was like energy drinks and axe and cheap shampoo. A smell that was decidedly _Matt._

…

Nope, red was definitely not my favourite colour.

"Red?" As if I hadn't made my answer clear, he had to go and question it. I could feel him shift against me, moving out of his lean and turning to face me fully. He crossed his legs Indian style, tapping his fingers in that restless manner on his knee. Seemingly without thought, or so it seemed by his actions, he tugged his goggles off, a rare movement if anything, inspecting them for dirtiness around the lenses without lifting his head.

Another scoffing noise was made as I looked right back to my paper, shaking my head as I jotted down another few lines. Hah, beat that Near…I was going far over the minimum requirement, farther then that albino bastard would think to go anyway…

As I wrote I managed to get back on the train of the conversation. Not that I had to keep the conversation going per se, I could just ignore Matt. That never seemed to quiet him though, damned kid always had something or other to say. I could swear he had a weird attention disorder, like a puppy. Sure he could sit there all peaceful-like if you told him to, but that would only last, and only ever lasted, so long.

Which wasn't long at all.

Hence why I needed to keep the conversation going when it was still such a simple one as this.

"No…not red. Red is overused, unoriginal…predictable." I was pleased by this answer because not only did I correct my own wrong…but I steered away from the path of the expectable. If there was one thing I wasn't, it was predictable.

…Unless it came to Matt.

Then again…Matt was some crazy dog, human hybrid that somehow came out with an adorable, brilliant kid instead of a freaky mutated thing that no one wanted to touch or be around. (I think Matt would die if someone didn't touch him by the way. Its just another one of those things he needs. Not in the sexual manner either, which sort of sucks if I really wanted to think about it.)

Back on track, it was Matt's voice that drew me out of my own thoughts. It took me a moment to concentrate on what he'd said, having not caught it in the forefront of my mind as I should have were I paying attention.

'What is your favourite colour then?' Something like that…and of course, how could I not see that one coming?

"What's it to you anyway? That's like a nursery school worthy question dumb ass," Well it was true, I wasn't just being an ass, though that certainly was amusing. Who _honestly_ asks what someone's favourite colour is past elementary school age? For fucks sake Matt was thirteen, he shouldn't even be _wondering_ about these things.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; for one of the smartest (*cough* _the_ smartest…not that I'd say it…ever…)kids I know, Matt was a fucking idiot.

A naïve, childish, endearing idiot…

He shifted again, and I could practically see his expression without looking. His teeth were clamping down on his much abused lower lip, forehead crinkled ever so slightly at the top, head tilted a bit to the side as he contemplated how best to answer to receive the best answer himself.

"Well I don't know your favourite colour, but I know a lot of more major things about you. I thought it'd be nice to slow down and learn a few of the smaller things, that actually build up…well you. Its been a few years now, I wanna really know you, even if it's starting small."

Damn him.

Damn him to the darkest, loneliest, most isolated corner of the earth where not so much as an insect has breathed.

…

Okay, so that was a bit harsh, and I would never even really consider doing that to Matt. He would die right on the spot, no shit. His need for human contact, or my contact rather…,was just that strong. It was sad really, but gave me that heady sense of power and possession I just couldn't resist.

But fuck I _swear_ sometimes I could do that to the little bastard. Saying things like that…fuck what was he thinking? Sometimes he just didn't seem to get that normal people didn't go around saying shit like that…and in answer to simple questions for that matter! It was amazing that he could turn just about anything into something so…annoyingly innocent and deep.

"Fine." The word escaped me as more of an exasperated sigh then anything. As luck may have it, the moment I looked up from my paper with the intention of just giving him a brief glance…he looked up to.

So much for brief glances. Once he caught you with those eyes, you had no prayer of looking away until he decided he was done trying to read your very soul with those wickedly brilliant, deep orbs of his.

Another reason why Matt needed to go be damned to that dark lonely corner. To save us all from the weapon of mass destruction that was his impossibly intense gaze. Seriously, one look and he could start wars.

Or end them, depending on what sort of look he was giving.

It took a long moment to gain back my proper train of thought, trying to pick up where I'd left off without skipping a beat.(It wasn't my fault, I'd like to see YOU think straight with those eyes locked onto yours and holding you in place.) Unfortunately, it was a bit too late for that, and I had to settle with the hope that he had passed off my pause as thinking over a new answer.

"Its green." I decided finally, my mouth betraying me once more before the thought registered in my mind. I didn't want to reject my own answer again, so I decided to just go along with it. "My favourite colour is green."

Any guesses why?

"Green?" Same questioning tone as before, as if he hadn't heard my answer. This time he seemed to accept it, nodding and finally releasing me from the torture that was eye contact. Alright…so I'll admit it wasn't torture but you get the point. "Why green? Its…not what I expected." He admitted, clearly not pleased with being wrong, although he hid it well.

…Fucker just had to ask, didn't he?

Why green? Why was my favourite colour green?

Huh…well it certainly wasn't for the grass, or the leaves on the tress. Wasn't because green seemed to symbolize money, or 'go', or health or hope or any of that shit.

It was simple really, and I was quick to figure out why green had been the colour to come to mind while trapped in Matt's gaze.

Matt's depthless, bottle green gaze.

Get where I'm coming from now?

I couldn't even bring myself to be embarassed over it as I probably should have been. It was true…and I knew it. Even if I didn't love the colour green itself, I definitely loved Matt's eyes. Ones that could be so devastatingly affectionate and mesmerizing one minute, to mind numbingly pleading and puppy-esque the next. They held hundreds of expressions, all at once even. I'd never be able to count them all, name them all. That was virtually impossible.

And the redhead wondered why I was always staring.

When you were looking for a rare glimpse at those striking eyes of his…it was hard not to be constantly staring. Even I, who had allowed him to hang by my side for years now, wasn't granted the luxury of seeing those eyes for more then a few moments.

My point was only proven as Matt, apparently satisfied with his cleaning, tugged his goggles right back over those dangerous optics. Still one eyebrow arched expectantly, apparently awaiting the answer I was yet to give.

Well he sure as hell was _not _going to receive the truth.

"Because green is hope, is it not? Hope and strength and luck. And what do I need but that to beat that damn albino bastard? Green is a good colour to like, it has a lot of meaning. Suits me almost." The lie was smooth, and there was enough passion behind it from adding that certain wide-haired fucker into it that it could be passed off.

Even through Matt's lie detector.

My own eyes trailed back to my paper, annoyed that I'd lost my train of thought for the assignment. Damnit Matt…he was going to pay. Later of course…when he paid for everything else I'd yet to punish him for.

Thankfully my answer seemed to please him, because after a moment of careful study(Its weird how you can _feel_ his eyes on you even when you can't see 'em), he seemed to relax, picking up his History book, though I knew he had no chances of studying. It still pleased me that he at least tried to put off the appearance he was…because he was trying to please _me._

Before I could even stop myself, the question fell off my lips, wanting to return the favour of asking. Not to mention I found myself remotely curious, expecting some sort of silly answer like 'I like 'em all' or 'I don't have one'.

"What's your favourite colour Matt?"

To my surprise, as always considering Matt _never_ seemed to do anything as expected save for crawl back to me after a fight, I received no stupid or smart assed answer. No, what I received was short and to the point instead.

"Blue."

Just blue…how odd, he'd never shown any preference to the colour.

And was it just me, or did I detect a hint of amusement in his voice?

Again I found myself looking up, just in time to catch…-was that at smirk?- fading from his lips. My eyes narrowed in suspicion, pursing my lips a moment.

"Why blue?" Why blue indeed. Once again, I never depicted Matt to be the 'favourite colour type'. I wanted an explanation as to why, and to prove to myself that he wasn't really pulling my leg or being a smart ass.

For a second time , the answer caught me off guard, having not expected it.

"Because it's the colour of your eyes Mel."

There was no doubt in my mind that there was a playful, knowing smirk on his lips as he looked back to his book, green eyes sparkling behind those damned goggles.


End file.
